The Italian's Unexpected Heir

After all, there wasn’t another soul around. It was once again just the two of them. Why did that conjure up all the wrong thoughts?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

NOTHING ROMANTIC WAS going to happen.

Enzo already made it quite clear he wasn’t interested.

Sylvie moved to the side of the blanket. Enzo joined her. He glanced over at her sketch pad. She’d forgotten all about its still being open. Her initial instinct was to close it, but it would seem rude and she wouldn’t do that to Enzo.

As Enzo studied her sketch, she studied him. She wondered if their baby would be a boy or girl. She liked the idea of having a little boy—the spitting image of his father. Her heart filled with love.

And Enzo’s dark brown eyes were unforgettable. Would the baby inherit his father’s penetrating gaze? Or would they inherit her nothing-special lighter brown eyes? Would their son or daughter be tall like their father? Short like her? Or fall somewhere in between? She had so many questions.

Sylvie wondered if Enzo was curious about their child. They might not have worked as a couple but that didn’t mean she didn’t want him in their child’s life.

In fact, after not knowing her father at all, Sylvie was quite anxious for Enzo to be an active part of their child’s life, which was another reason she wished he’d change his mind about selling the estate. She’d heard him say in the past that if he didn’t live here that he’d probably move back to France. And that was so far away that he’d only see their child once in a while. Not nearly enough for a close relationship.

“Sylvie?” Enzo waved his hand in front of her face. When she blinked and focused on him, he asked, “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Umm...” Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Sorry. I guess I zoned out. That wedding this morning might have had a small guest list but there were a lot of little details and I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Then we should get you back to the house. The doctor said you should take it easy for a few days.”

“It has been a few days and I’m fine.” When he frowned at her, she said, “Besides, these are the last lingering days of summer and I want to enjoy them before they’re gone.”

“There’s always next year.”

“But things will be so different then.”

“You mean the baby?”

“Partly.” She glanced away. “It’s complicated.”

He glanced back at her sketch pad. “I didn’t know you were artistic.”

“I... I’m not. This is just a sketch. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal. Call it what you want but that’s a definite piece of art. Wow! You’re talented.”

Heat rushed back to her cheeks. She wasn’t used to people complimenting her sketches. “Thank you.”

“May I have a closer look?”

She handed over her sketchbook. She wasn’t sure why he was making such a big deal of it. She didn’t think her sketches were that good and maybe that was why she couldn’t finish this dress. In her mind the dress was magnificent, but when she attempted to transfer that image to paper it didn’t come out quite the way she imagined.

Enzo held up her sketch and really studied it for a moment. “Do you have more of these?”

She nodded.

“May I look at those, too?”

She nodded once more. She never knew just how exposed she would feel by sharing her sketches with someone. It was like they were looking at a piece of her soul. It was all bare and open for their inspection. And if they didn’t like it—if Enzo didn’t like what he saw—it would hurt. It would hurt a lot.

He turned page after page. Some were close-ups of the bodice with all the lacework or beading. Others were full dress sketches. She drew what she thought she’d need in order to take the drawing and turn it into a full-fledged dress.

“This is so impressive.”

“It’s not that good.”